Red Laurels
by WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: It didn't matter what happened from here on out. Red John had already won.


**I came up with this while writing my next update for another fic. I decided to flesh it out some. Just a small thought piece from Lisbon's point of view.**

_Patrick Jane would not win._

When that thought came into Teresa Lisbon's mind, she tried to forget it, tried to fight it down, tried to prevent that sinking feeling from settling into her stomach and making her feel like everything she was doing was for nothing, but she couldn't. It came, it settled, and it depressed her.

People always told her, told Jane, told her team, that one day they would find the serial killer. They would catch him and bring him into custody, they would catch him and kill him, and it would be over. Jane would move on, Jane would be happy, Jane would feel fulfilled. And, by default, so would the rest of the team.

It wasn't so simple. Finding Red John, killing Red John, it would not magically transform Jane into a man at peace with himself. It would not lift the weight from his shoulders, and it would not ease the guilt.

It would not bring Angela and Charlotte back. Until Jane's dying day, be it, God forbid, tomorrow or fifty years down the road, he would be the man responsible for their deaths. It didn't matter that he hadn't held the knife. It was his fault, and he knew it. Killing Red John wouldn't change that, and despite what he swore, it remained to be seen if he would actually feel better about everything.

Killing Red John would not give Jane back the years he spent devoting himself to finding the killer. He could never go back to being a younger man; Red John had aged him beyond his years. He was fortunate enough to keep his hair color, but the depression and the insomnia and the tiredness in his eyes was a much worse end of the deal.

Red John had tortured Jane mentally and emotionally for ten years already, and Lisbon had no idea how much longer it would take to catch him. If – and it was an if, no matter how positive she had to remain out loud – they ever caught him and killed him, he would die the man who gave Jane the tired look in his eyes. He would die the man who kept Jane awake at night. He would die the man who had people chasing him for around twenty years as he frolicked forward, almost effortlessly, one step ahead. And as much as he'd tortured Jane, he'd hurt the people close to Jane too. He turned Van Pelt from a sweet, naïve young cop into a fiery, sometimes mentally unstable, sometimes too aggressive cop. He had played on Lisbon's relationship with Jane enough to make both of them anxious, and until he was caught there was always the possibility that she could one day become a target. He had ruined many lives, yes, the families of his many victims, but the ones he'd spent the most effort in destroying were the people close to Jane, and in that he had succeeded. Tremendously.

Killing him would change none of that. All the angst and tragedy in the past would go unerased. It was even possible that Red John's death could be part of his plan, to leave Jane without a sense of purpose in the world – he was no longer a husband, no longer a father, and no longer someone who had a life's ambition. He'd be nothing, and if Lisbon and the team were still alive they'd be the ones to have to try and pick up the pieces and make him into a whole. And the senior agent had no idea if they'd be able to do that. He'd once told her that he had "nothing else to do" but work for the CBI. Would he really care anymore if Red John was dead? Would he care about _anything_? Or would he become restless, or listless, with nothing to aim for? She knew him now, this vengeful Jane, she knew how to hold him steady under most circumstances; what would she do, what _could _she do if he ever had a real breakdown? Wandered away without telling her where she was going? She'd try to find him, sure, but it was very hard to find a man who didn't want to be found.

_I knew this would end a disaster the day I signed on with you._

She remembered saying that to him years ago. And she still believed it. Whether they caught Red John or not, the serial killer would never be the one to lose at the game. Either he kept evading them, or his capture left Jane with no sense of purpose.

It didn't matter what they did. Red John had already won.


End file.
